Conclave, the 2024 adaptation of Robert Harris’ 2016 novel, is a tense and cerebral thriller that trades action for atmosphere, set against the cloistered, hallowed halls of the Vatican. Directed by Edward Berger, the film marks a bold departure from the splashy spectacles that dominate contemporary cinema, opting instead for tightly wound intrigue, intellectual sparring, and hushed suspense. Featuring a restrained yet magnetic performance from Ralph Fiennes and a supporting cast of veteran character actors, Conclave navigates questions of faith, power, and morality with an impressive sense of gravitas. It’s a film as much about the fragility of institutions as it is about the men who uphold them.
The story unfolds in the wake of the sudden death of the Pope, an event that sends shockwaves through the Catholic Church and sets in motion the secretive process of electing his successor. Fiennes stars as Cardinal Lomeli, the Dean of the College of Cardinals, tasked with overseeing the conclave that will determine the next leader of the Church. What begins as a solemn, ritualistic gathering of high-ranking clergy soon spirals into a labyrinth of secrets, alliances, and revelations, each threatening to upend the sanctity of the process.
Director Edward Berger, hot off the success of All Quiet on the Western Front, brings the same meticulous pacing and attention to detail that defined his earlier work. Conclave is not a thriller in the traditional sense—it’s a slow, deliberate unraveling, relying on dialogue, body language, and lingering glances to build tension. Berger’s use of space and silence is masterful, emphasizing the isolation of the Vatican and the pressure cooker that is the Sistine Chapel, where the cardinals deliberate under Michelangelo’s all-seeing frescoes.
The camera lingers on the grandeur of the Vatican City, but rather than basking in its beauty, Berger uses it to create a sense of oppressive weight. The vast marble halls and shadowed chapels become a prison for the cardinals as they grapple with their duty and ambitions. The cinematography by James Friend, with its muted palette of grays, golds, and soft candlelight, feels both reverent and foreboding, perfectly mirroring the film’s tone.
At the heart of Conclave is Ralph Fiennes’ portrayal of Cardinal Lomeli, a man bound by duty but haunted by his own doubts. Fiennes has made a career of playing characters who exude quiet authority, and here, he uses that same stoic demeanor to great effect. Lomeli is a man who listens far more than he speaks, his piercing gaze often betraying more than his words. As he uncovers secrets about his fellow cardinals—and himself—Fiennes conveys a gradual unraveling with subtlety and grace.
Lomeli is not a conventional protagonist; he is flawed, uncertain, and at times complicit in the politics he claims to abhor. Yet Fiennes’ performance makes him wholly compelling—a man caught between his belief in the divine and the stark realities of human nature.
The supporting cast is equally impressive. John Lithgow shines as the shrewd and calculating Cardinal Tremblay, a man whose ambition simmers beneath his veneer of piety. Javier Cámara delivers a standout performance as the genial yet enigmatic Cardinal Aguirre, while Stanley Tucci, in a small but pivotal role, brings a sense of quiet menace to the proceedings. Each actor imbues their character with depth, ensuring that no one feels like a mere archetype.
What makes Conclave so absorbing is its exploration of power and its corrupting influence, even within an institution as sacred as the Catholic Church. Harris’ novel delves into these themes with nuance, and Berger translates them seamlessly to the screen. The conclave itself, an ancient and secretive process meant to embody divine will, becomes a microcosm of human ambition and frailty. As Lomeli discovers, every man in the room carries secrets, and even those who appear most pious may harbor darker motives.
The film raises questions about the nature of faith—both personal and institutional. What happens when the people tasked with upholding divine truth are themselves fallible? How does one reconcile a belief in the divine with the messy, often cynical reality of human politics? These questions simmer throughout the film, never offering easy answers but encouraging thoughtful reflection.
Yet Conclave does not descend into cynicism. Despite its revelations of corruption and hypocrisy, the film maintains a sense of reverence for faith itself. It’s a delicate balancing act, but one that Berger navigates with care, ensuring that the story remains a human drama rather than a condemnation of belief.
The film’s score, composed by Volker Bertelmann, is another highlight. Sparse, brooding, and atmospheric, the music underscores the tension without overwhelming it. Bertelmann uses choirs and organ music to evoke the sacred setting, blending it with modern, minimalist motifs to reflect the psychological unease that permeates the story. The sound design, too, is immaculate—footsteps echoing down marble halls, whispered conversations, and the faint creak of ancient doors all contribute to the claustrophobic atmosphere.
The film builds slowly toward a climactic revelation that, while faithful to the novel, lands with stunning force. Without delving into spoilers, the final act of Conclave reframes everything that came before it, offering a twist that is both shocking and thematically resonant. Berger handles this reveal with restraint, allowing the weight of the moment to settle without melodrama. It’s a conclusion that lingers long after the credits roll, forcing the audience to reconsider not just the characters, but the very nature of truth, faith, and leadership.
Conclave is a rare kind of film in today’s cinematic landscape—intelligent, restrained, and deeply introspective. Edward Berger has crafted a gripping drama that eschews spectacle in favor of mood, character, and substance. Ralph Fiennes delivers one of his finest performances to date, anchoring a film that challenges its audience to think deeply about faith, power, and the imperfections of the human soul.
While some may find its deliberate pacing too measured, those willing to immerse themselves in its shadowy corridors will be richly rewarded. In a world where blockbusters dominate, Conclave stands as a reminder of cinema’s ability to provoke thought and stir the spirit. It is a film of whispers, secrets, and shadows—a haunting meditation on the uneasy marriage of the sacred and the profane.
Conclave is currently available on VOD, Blu-ray, and DVD.